


American Blood

by trapezoidscheme



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen, Not Shippy, ao3 has such an annoying format let me indent my paragraphs dammit, blood ment, jack is trans in this, just mention of geoff/jack, stitches ???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:00:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trapezoidscheme/pseuds/trapezoidscheme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Michael or Gavin get badly hurt or sick, Geoff and Ryan are worried. It turns out alright, no character death.<br/>This is for the Monty Oum Project's fanfiction exchange!<br/>I called it American Blood b/c of the Passion Pit song from Iron Man 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	American Blood

“So… what do you wanna do?”  
That’s how it started. A simple question. Michael was the one that asked it, with his head hanging upside down, arms flopped out, knees hooked over the top of the couch in Geoff’s flat. The TV flickered with an episode of Always Sunny that they’ve all seen before.  
Ryan sat with his feet on the coffee table, trying to (unsuccessfully) carve a bar of soap into the shape of a duck. Geoff was dozing off in an armchair, his lips occasionally turning up whenever someone in the TV said something particularly funny.  
“Whatever it is, leave me out of it.” The mustached man said, snuggling further into the cushions.  
The rest of the crew had already gone back to their own apartments or were asleep in one of Geoff’s spare rooms. However, Michael had practically spent the day napping, which he followed up with four mugs of coffee and a Redbull, so he wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon. His eyes slid over to Ryan, who looked up from his vaguely spherical soap with a mildly amused expression.  
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Michael waggled his eyebrows at the proficient soap-sculptor.  
“…we stay home and do nothing so Jack doesn’t kill us if something goes wrong?” Ryan said back, followed by a noise of assent from Geoff. Michael shook his head and put on his best pouty face.  
Ryan sighed and stood up, brushing soap-dust off of his pants.  
“Alright, you win. Let’s go.”  
Michael swung his legs around, stood up off the couch excitedly, and followed Ryan to the garage.  
They decided to rob a small gas station out on the edge of town, and everything went off without a hitch. Well- everything up to a certain point.

“You did WHAT?” Geoff’s voice was muffled by the iPhone speaker but his fury came through loud and clear. Ryan held the phone away from his ear and grimaced.  
“We robbed a gas station, okay? And the police came, and Michael got really hurt, like really hurt, and- and the car blew up and we’re fine now but he’s really bleeding, and I don’t know what to do, and you need to come help us right now and please don’t tell Jack! The last time this happened I couldn’t see straight for a we-“ Ryan was interrupted by the dial tone and he could only hope Geoff was on his way.  
Ryan turned his attention back to Michael. The red-head’s blood was all over Ryan’s hands and it’s not like he was about to cry, but he was absolutely about to cry. Michael’s eyes were closed, but his face was contorted in a pained expression that let Ryan know that he wasn’t dead just yet.  
“Come on Michael, Geoff is coming soon, you’ll be okay, I swear, I swear you’re not dying in a shitty alleyway. I’ll march into hell and bring you back myself if I have to, you’ll be okay-“ at this point, he was definitely crying. Excellent, Vagabond. Michael probably feels really safe right about now.  
“Love you, Ryan.” Michael forced out between clenched teeth. Ryan reciprocated the love by letting out a choked sob, and Michael understood.  
It felt like hours had passed with Michael’s blood seeping into Ryan’s skin and clothes when Geoff’s car squealed into the alley and the boss himself tumbled out, clutching a first aid kit.  
“It’ll be fine Ryan, I did this a shit ton of times when it was just me and Gav, he’ll be fine, he’ll be fine!” Ryan stood back with his eyes firmly glued to his shoes while Geoff patched Michael up enough to get him back to base.  
Ryan drove like a madman, but if Geoff and Michael were nauseous they didn’t speak up, so he continued to swerve and speed all the way back to the flat. By the time they got back, Michael was out cold, and Ryan thanked every single god he could think of that their building had an elevator.  
They deposited Michael on the living room couch and Geoff pulled out the surgical needle, threading it expertly. Ryan cleared his throat and immediately went to the other room with his hands over his eyes.  
“Big bad Mad King can’t handle a little blood?” Geoff said, chuckling. Ryan grumbled at him to get back to work, and Geoff did, still chuckling. When he was done, Ryan came back to help put Michael in one of the spare bedrooms.  
Michael’s eyes slowly blinked open and he became acutely aware of a pain in his right shoulder.  
“God…” he groaned. His attempts to sit up were quickly thwarted by Ryan’s hand on his chest, pushing him back down onto the mattress. Michael quickly realized that Ryan was about three seconds away from crying again, so he rearranged his face into an expression he hoped conveyed contentment- something more like ‘hey buddy it’s not your fault’ and less like ‘hi my name is Michael and I’m mortally wounded.’ He must have been a pretty good actor, because Ryan’s shoulders slumped forward and he stopped holding his breath.  
“I’m sorry Michael-” he began, but Michael cut him off.  
“Dude, it’s fine. I’m fine, I swear.” Ryan managed a smile and told him that he should get some more rest. Michael gave a weak thumbs up—which made Ryan laugh—before closing his eyes again.  
Ryan wandered into the kitchen, not quite knowing what to do with himself. The sun was just coming up, it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to go to sleep now. Geoff was standing at the sink, washing his hands. He lifted his eyebrows in Ryan’s direction.  
“How’s he holding up?” Geoff asked. Ryan’s eyes drifted to blood stains on Geoff’s shirt, and thought of his own nails, also caked with Michael’s blood. The thought made him shudder.  
“He’s fine. Seems like his normal self.” Ryan said. He flopped down at the table and put his head in his hands.  
“It’s not your fault, you know. You did everything you could. You put pressure on it, got him to a safe place, the whole shebang. And now he can say he’s seen the Vagabond cry!” Ryan smiled ruefully at this, shaking his head.  
“Yeah, I guess he can. I thought he was gonna die, Geoff.”  
“I know you did, big guy. But he didn’t.”  
“I guess not.” Geoff patted Ryan’s back and went off to his bedroom, off to wake Jack up for breakfast.


End file.
